


First, Do No Harm

by fyeahblackturtlenecks



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, because i like to cause myself unnecessary pain about fictional characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5028043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyeahblackturtlenecks/pseuds/fyeahblackturtlenecks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders considers the first thing he ever learned, and the only thing that matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First, Do No Harm

It is the first thing a healer learns, and the most basic. 

First, do no harm.

Anders has done his best to live by those four words since the day he first heard them. The red lanterns glow for those who need them, but they are hung high enough to keep their small flames from burning an upraised hand. As he sits huddled in the corner of the cold Chantry cellar, ingredients spread before him, Anders says softly, “I can’t call myself a healer anymore.”

 _And why is that?_ asks Justice as he surfaces, just below the foreground of Anders’s mind. 

“Would a healer do this?” Anders motions to the supplies in front of him before reaching for a piece of crumbled Sela Petrae. Carefully, he drops it into one of five bottles—one would stay in each corner of the basement and one beneath the grand cleric’s podium in the main hall, all ready to react at Anders’s signal.

 _You have performed amputations in the past, when they were needed._ Justice leaks confusion out into Anders’s mind as he speaks. _How is this different?_

“The people who will die here are not infected limbs to be removed,” says Anders slowly. “They have lives, families, people who need them. And I’m taking that away.” 

_You are having second thoughts._

“I am.” 

_Why?_

“Because it’s not an amputation if you take out the heart. If we were destroying the Templar Hall, _that_ would be an amputation. A disarming, if you will.” Anders gives a breathy chuckle and drops a chunk of drakestone into each bottle. “What we’re doing, we’ll get innocent people hurt.”

_It was your idea, Anders. I agreed with it, but I will not force you to do this if you find it overly objectionable._

“We could have chosen the Gallows, too, but the mages…and that would just defeat the purpose. There is no in-between. What did I put in the manifesto? “Change will not come in increments?” I like that, I’m glad I kept it after editing…” he trails off, focused now on adding the final ingredients.

_We can wait if you need to, but from what I understand, we may not have that much more time._

“We have until Meredith sends for the Right of Annulment,” says Anders. “Which could be tomorrow, for all we know. Maker knows she wants to.” He gathers up the bottles and makes his way around the cellar, placing one carefully in the shadows of each corner. It is a deserted place, dark, with only a few candles set on the walls that rarely see the light of a matchstick. Anders moves towards the stairs, then runs in quick strides to the safety of a corner’s darkness when light flashes from the door at the top. He holds his breath as the voices of two Chantry sisters filter down the steps in unintelligible whispers. 

When the door closes moments later, no handheld candles making their way downstairs, Anders moves again, stepping his way up lightly. His hand tightened around the one remaining bottle. 

_Are you sure you are doing harm?_

“What do you mean?” Anders whispers. He keeps close to the walls, dipping in and out of pools of infrequent candlelight. 

_You were thinking of it earlier. “First, do no harm.” Is this harm? You will cause harm to something has caused more pain to more people than you ever will._

“That’s not the point, Justice.” Anders ducks behind the Grand Cleric’s pedestal, the hood of his cloak pulled up to better cover the glint of his blond hair. “The point is that I’m hurting people at all. I know I have to, I know it’s the only option I have left, but I’m still taking the “Healer” sign off of the clinic door.” He tucks the last bottle into the back of the podium’s hollow interior. 

———

The next morning, the sign with “Public Healer” painted in black letters on Anders’s door is gone. Over it is a coat of white paint, new letters drying slowly against the background: “Clinic, No Charge."


End file.
